On the nose.

More accurately: in the nose. Tonight's is not a story about a punch, or elbow, or foot to my nose. No. Tonight, the weather finally turned wintry. The dojo version of air-conditioning and heating is to prop open the doors at each end of the building and enjoy the draft. So, tonight, I wore a woven, judo-style dogi. This was a decision based on the weather outside, and its potential to be frightful; this decision failed to account for the increases in body heat, humidity, and the accompanying sweat of three hours of practice in our relatively compact practice space.

Thirteen years, I've been practicing aikido. About twenty-five years since I got my first dogi, and first entered a dojo. I should be smarter about some of this.

Thus, the assault on the nose came when, after a leisurely and hilarious two-hour dinner with fellow students after class, I got home and pulled the dogi from its bag. It's fair to say something smells bad when it actually hurts to smell it.

For the record: yes, I had showered just before class; yes, the dogi was freshly washed before class. Yes, I understand the implications this holds for me as a member of society. Yes, that is a bottle of Febreeze in the bottom of the picture, and yes, I used it liberally and will wash the dogi before bringing back into public. The Febreeze is just because I have to live in the same house as the foul thing until tomorrow when I can do laundry again.